Part of the re-vamp of this blog will be me participating more regularly in memes, blog-hops and other social blogging projects that I like/make sense to me/want to share with others.
One of those such things is Top Ten Tuesday from The Broke and The Bookish.
Today’s list is Resolutions for 2016. I prefer the term goals. Let’s call them goals. See, they’re
trees, um, goals.
And here they are with nifty categories.
Start/continue the journal/letters to Isla and show her that life is mostly beautiful and always an adventure, with a lesson in there somewhere. I’ll also be mentioning that all her weirdness comes from her father. And me. OK, both of us. Sorry not sorry.
Participate as far as I can in NYC Midnight’s Short Story Challenge. I thought about it last year. This year I’m in.
Write more consistently/constantly, generally-speaking. I want to get back to that person who filled a notebook every night and wrote a story every week. That person was me. And I have writing to do.
Finish the books I start. This could be said for the ones I’ve started writing, as well. But for now let’s talk about books by other people.
My husband calls me a flippant reader. To illustrate this point, up until a few days ago, I had 57 (!) books on Goodreads listed under currently reading.
I have this thing where if I see something that hits me somewhere, I have to read it RIGHT NOW. All the books. Or at least 57 of them. Then I had a baby. And moved. Either that, or I lost the book. Or fell asleep. Or read the last page. And then picked up another book.
Anyway, 57 became 4. Because, well, I’m currently reading them.
Leave a stack to read through this month, and pack the rest.
Finish that series. And that one. And this one.
Organise the new place, when we get there. Or at least try.
Get new bookshelves. My current ones have followed me around since I was 18. There’s mutual love there. But they are tired. And scuffed. And missing some damn dowels.
Find a mosaic coffee-table. Or maybe make one. Does that mean I get to break shit? And call it art? OK, then.
Paint a wall with chalkboard paint. For Isla. For us.
Let go of anxiety. I’ve had the one with the big A since Isla’s been around. I’d like it to move out already.
Be. Laugh with my kid, and Neil. Read. Write. Drink coffee. Neflix. And chill. No, really.
So that’s 12. Or maybe its only two, and the rest is how I get there.
I shall try. We shall see.
What about you?